


Drabbles (ENG)

by dieOtter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6116998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieOtter/pseuds/dieOtter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The English version of my Supernatural drabble collection</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lessons we learn in life

The pen hadn't been worth stealing, Dean thought at the sound of a flowerpot hitting the pavement below. 

"Winchester! I've always doubted you can behave properly in a classroom, but today you've overdone it! We're going to the headmaster, now! And don't forget to mention to him these paper balls you keep on throwing. And that fartbag you placed on my chair ten minutes ago!" 

Dean gulped. How could he explain to his history teacher the power of cursed objects? 

_If I ever lose my pen again, I'll rather write with a bloody crayon than take something from dad's pocket!_


	2. It's not easy to be king

She took a deep breath and said to her boss “Thscpd...”

“Come again.” Crowley's voice was dripping with venom.

“They escaped,” she muttered even more quietly, trying to look as small as possible. It never worked against the King of Hell, though. 

“Are you trying to tell me that you had them in a bloody cage and let them get out?!”

“Boss, I'm sorry, they were smarter than I thought!” 

“I'm surrounded by idiots!” Crowley snapped and turned away. How was he supposed to breed first class hell hounds if his demons let his best bitches run away like this?


	3. Sweet coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Female Character this one time

She went to the car, on her way back opened the wrong door, and froze, speechless, looking into the small room. She couldn't even say what shocked her the most. First, there was a middle-aged, scruffy looking man sewing a long and bloody cut on another, younger man's shoulder. Next to them there was a table full of guns, knives. She spotted even something that looked like a machete. At the window there stood one more man. This one wore a trenchcoat, which was surprising in itself, taking into account the heat outside. He was deeply concentrated on the task of putting together a broken cell phone, and his expression reminded her of a child constructing a fortress with plastic bricks.

Just as she was going apologize and close the door, the bathroom door opened and fourth man walked into the room. He was young, athletically built and incredibly good-looking. He cast her a long, almost flirtatious glance and winked, reaching for a towel lying on the cupboard. Except for that towel, now wrapped around his hips, there was no single article of clothing on him. 

On the other hand, maybe she should thank her sister for picking this motel?


	4. Patience pays off

Reluctantly, he handed over the key. Nobody else could convince him to do something like this. There was only one living person who had ever driven his Baby in his stead. Two, if you counted Bobby this one time when John got too banged up and Dean hadn't had his driving license yet.

“Slowly, you've got to press it very slowly. Whoa, easy there! You want to kill us? Just take it easy, I'll help you with the wheel.”

Dean took a deep breath and counted to ten. Only Castiel could coax him into teaching him how to drive.


	5. The art of forgetting

“Is there something you want to tell me, son?”

Dean gulped and looked at his feet. 

“Stop acting like an ugly girl in a disco club! I know you took whiskey from my cabinet and we all saw its effects yesterday...”

“Don't tell Dad, please!” With his usual cheekiness gone Dean finally looked his age, which was only twelve. John tended to forget about that, and Bobby wasn't willing to get his friend's son into more trouble.

“I won't if you tell me why you did it,” he finally offered.

“The same reason you and dad do it. To forget,” answered the boy seriously. The same words, which uttered by any other twelve-year-old would have sounded funny, coming from Dean Winchester made so much sense, especially when backed up by the emotion shining in the boy's green eyes, that suddenly Bobby didn't know what to say.


	6. The art of communication

He opened the door to find her standing there, crying.  
"Lisa, what's wrong?"   
"Nothing..." she sniffed.  
"Hey, I'm not blind." He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.  
"Let me go!" Lisa snapped and tried to walk away.  
“Did something happen? Is it about Ben?” he pressed, his worry escalating. Maybe the boy got sick? Maybe there was some accident at school? Or maybe, just maybe, his new life turned out not to be as safe as he assumed? Did he fail to keep the ones he loved safe yet again?  
“Lisa, is it something... supernatural?”  
“No, you idiot! I accidentally rubbed some onion into my eye, now will you let me go and apply some cold water to it?!”


	7. The wheel of fortune

"Do you think he crashed the car on purpose?"  
“I don't care! Baby's hurt because the idiot couldn't operate the wheel correctly!”  
“Dean. He was just learning. Remember how I hit the garage wall when I was learning how to park?”  
“But that wasn't Baby, that was one of Bobby's cars!”  
“And this isn't just anyone, either. This is Cas!”

“It's done.”  
“Cas? What, you repaired it?”  
“Yes.”  
“How?”  
“It wasn't hard, I found some paint...”  
“We don't have black paint!”  
“No, but you had some red.”  
“You painted the Impala's door red?”  
“Not all, of course, just the scratch. And I made it into a shape I know people use to decorate things.”

_A minute later..._

“A heart? You painted a bloody heart on my car?! Cas, angel mojo or not, I'm gonna kill you!”


End file.
